Scenes From One Dad’s Foxhole

I live in a house with 4 other people. All girls. They have lots of things. Sarcasm and hair top the list. I’ll take some of the blame for sarcasm. I speak it fluently. I may have passed on that gene. Or they might just all be teenagers. But when it comes to clogged shower drains or blocked bathroom sinks, I’m not at fault. I could be standing in a category 5 hurricane and my hair would give you no indication. None. That being said, we do share one thing. Hot water.

When I was a kid, I grew up in a house with 4 other people. In college I shared a house with 4 other dudes. Hot water was a commodity. Like sincerity in a speech by Ted Cruz. The size, age and efficiency of your water heater helped dictate the acuteness of your hot water radar. Over the years I believe I have developed a relatively strong sense of how much hot water is available based on the hot water related activities going on in the house. It’s kinda like the noise level on the second floor when Mom and I are watching TV in the family room. There is a level of noise, an intensity of clamor, a degree of hullabaloo that we don’t notice. It’s not that we’re ignoring it, but after many years of parenting we have developed an acute sense of when something is amiss and when something is just…well…the girls “talking” to each other. We’re aware of what’s going on but we pay it no attention. Like any statement from Hillary suggesting competence in regards to her foreign policy experience. If you haven’t seen 13 Hours in Benghazi you should. However, there is a simple rule of thumb that is rarely if ever unreliable. When it comes to showers and house full of people, you want to be first.

Sometimes this will require you to wake up early.

Other times it will require you to shower at odd times.

Or you can just get in line and hope for the best.

I have no sympathy for you if you continually chose #3 and bitch about cold water. That’s like getting into a discussion about hair metal with a millennial and expecting wisdom. Or telling them that the Ghost video from Ella Henderson bears a striking similarity to Warrant’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin? Just me? Whatever…

Anyway, recently, Kinz comes barreling down the stairs to let us know that Rye and Bails have used all the hot water. They are, and I’m paraphrasing here, inconsiderate jerks with no appreciation or respect for widely agreed upon rules of hot water consumption. Now we all have our burdens to bear. The ’83 Steelers had Cliff Stoudt at quarterback. Hans Gruber had John McClane. Thundarr the Barbarian had the vile sorcerer Sabien. It can be tough out there.

But this is not one of those burdens. This is an inconvenience. A burden is supervising John Bender in detention on a Saturday. This is a lesson in the art of acting quickly. A lesson in immediately diagnosing a situation, devising a plan of action, and then acting on that plan. Joshua Chamberlain did it on Little Round Top and Kinz needs to do it here.

But Kinz has yet to learn an important lesson. Over the years I have learned not to complain if I get there and the water temperature is less than what I expected. Because in reality, you only have two options – bitch about it. Which isn’t going to make the water any hotter but could make the rest of day less enjoyable as your family dismisses your plight the same way Higgins would dismiss Magnum’s need to the drive the Ferrari. Or you can go fast. And I have some experience with this.

A few years ago, in the middle of winter, our water heater went out. Died. Quit. Like Roberto Duran in his last fight with Sugar Ray. Which meant that, while we technically could still take showers, we spent of the time avoiding the water instead of actually using. Now, I know what you’re thinking, we could have used one of the other appliances in the house to warm up a pot of water and used that to bath. Well, and I’m thinking of a word here…that’s just stupid. What the hell are we? Pio-freaking-neers trekking across the Great Plains avoiding Indian raids whilst searching for the Oregon Trail? No! We have plumbing. So even the water is like Lake Michigan in January, we’re using it.

Now there are a lot of things I like. That first taste of a cold beer on a Friday after work. Youtube videos of 70’s NFL games. Being 10 feet from Dee Snider singing “We’re Not Gonna Take It”. But after a few days of cold showers, stepping into a hot one is indescribable. It’s feels like this:

But none of that helped Kinz. She stood there whining and complaining about the lack of hot water for shower. Only I couldn’t really hear her. Why? Because before I could unleash my own words of disdainful sarcasm, Mom, Rye and Bails just buried her with it. It really was breathtaking.

We haven’t had too many issues with shower since. Sometimes things just take care of themselves.